I'm Held By Strings

The Door

     A few years ago now, I made probably worst decision of my life. I really haven't talked about it to many people, and I need to get it out there and off my chest. So here it is I guess.
     The dark, flat land was just crawling with emptiness. I loved just staring out my window, and the road was so smooth that I could just rest my head on the glass without any issues. My best friend sat in the drivers seat, humming along to the pop song playing through the car's speakers to keep herself awake and aware. We had been heading to her uncle's place down south from Wisconsin, and we both decided to leave our technology behind just to feel a little more free. I'm not sure where we were at the time, but I was enjoying the ride. She then muttered sometimes quietly under her breath, and I looked over to ask what was wrong. "The car, headass, we're out of gas." she said angrily, "there hasn't been a station in hours." I sighed and leaned back. No one else had driven by for a long while, we were stuck until morning.
     We looked at eachother and silently agreed on something, then both stepped out of her Honda. We looked behind us at first to make sure there were no other vehicles coming, but I knew there would be nothing. Once we turned to look up the road, I spotted a light a decent distance ahead of us. I could just make out the outline of a large looking home. It was worth a shot to ask for a phone call there, they could even offer us a place to sleep instead of us being alone in our car tonight.
     I turned back to ask if she wanted to head up that way, but she was gone. Missing. I ran around the car to her side, checked the inside as though I was looking for my own life, and even underneath. No sign of her or even of a struggle. My heart sank as my brain tried to grasp the situation. The road was empty. The road was surrounded by flat plains, and the car hadn't changed in any way. I felt as though I could've broken down and slept, but I knew I had to head towards the house in the distance. I trudged my way up the road, studying the home as it came into view. It seemed too worn down for anyone to live in, the busted windows or random rotting boards. Yet, I continued on anyways.
     I hesitated for only a few seconds while standing in front of the steps. They seemed as though they would immediately snap when any weight was put on the worn wood, but they withstood the pressure of my body and I reached the large, wooden front door. A golden knocker sat centered on the door, and it was so shiny and kept that it seemed unfit for this disgusting home. I reached and knocked three times, yelling out that I was stranded and desperately needed a phone call. I waited about three minutes, and decided to open the door myself. The handle was freezing cold, even though the weather was remotely warm. As the door creaked open, I took a few steps inside and quietly closed the door behind myself. The search had begun.